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PRESENTliD liY 



SONGS TO SAVE A SOUL 



Songs to Save a Soul 

BY 

IRENE RUTHERFORD McLEOD 




NEW YORK 
B. W. HUEBSCH 

1916 






First 'printing, Novemher, 1916. 
SecoTid printing , Decmiber, 1915. 
Third printing, April, 1916. 

CsUi 



DEDICATED TO 

KENELM FOSS 



Contents 



PASE 

Soft Places - - - - - - 13 

Unborn - • - - - - 16 

My dear comes down to meet me - - - 17 

Song frobi " April " - - - - 19 

London - - - - - 21 

Child's Prayer - - - - - 26 

The Beloved - - - - - 28 

Three Women - - - - -31 

Vision - - - - - - 33 

When my beloved sleeping lies - - - 36 

Philosophy - - - - - - 37 

SwALLOWj Swallow ... - - - - 40 

Oh^ that I HAD FULL POWER TO BE - - 42 

Unfulfilled - - - - - - 43 

Faith ■ - - - - - 46 

How DO I LOVK you.'' - - - - 48 

Ships - - - - - - -49 

1 will give you rest - - - - 60 

I have not forgotten - - - - 51 

o water may kiss thy small young feet ! - 64 

My Glorious One ! - - - - - 65 

The Aim - - - - - - 58 

vii 



Vlll 



Contents 



PAGE 

Rest ----- - 60 

i see you always through a haze - " 61 

Looking Baok - - - - - 62 

I Walk my Ways - - - - - 66 

Upon a Truss of Hay - - - - 66 

A Day ---..- 68 

Mother to Son - - - - - 70 

Discovery - - - - - - 73 

Immaturity - - - - - - 75 

I have done you greater wrong - - 76 

Wild Weather ... - 77 

On a Hill - - - - - - 78 

So beautiful you are indeed - - - 80 

Magic - - - - - - 81 

Is love, then, so simple, my dear ? - - 83 

To Francis Thompson - - - - 84 

Faith - - - - - - 87 

Lone Dog - - - - - - 89 

I think when we have lived our fill - - 91 

Sonnet - - - - - - 92 

When you have ceased to love me do not weep 93 

The Sword - - - - - - 96 

Mary's Baby - - - - - 98 

I'll sit no more and weep apart - - 99 

Rebel .-,... loi 



^i 



A NUMBER of these poems have appeared in 
the Nation, the Smart Set, Votes for Women, 
and the New Weekly, and it is by courtesy 
of the editors of tliose journals that they 
are reproduced here. — I. R. M. 



fFho will buy songs to save a human soul ? 

That's all I have to sell — 
Songs, chiming words, to pay the devil's toll. 

And slam the gates on hell. 
Love will not save him now, nor spirit grace, 

Nor hope that suckles doubt ; 
I have seen hunger staring on his face 

And all his flame gone out. 
I dare not comfort him : my childish tongue 

Gabbles too conscious lies ; 
It is too long ago our faith was young 

And vision blurred our eyes. 
That's done with— but by God, it's funny too ! 

Here 1 stand, youth 
In my flesh, song in my passionate brain, too true 

To sell what's his — biU truth 
Sniggering always . . . put aside your pen. 

Poor fool, flesh they will buy, 
But songs go cheaply in a world of men 

And Christ they crucify! 



Soft Places 

HERE I lie on a feather bed, 
With a feather pillow beneath my 
head, 
From my feet up to my chin 
I feel my body sinking in ; 
And though I writhe and turn about 
I cannot lift my spirit out. 

In the gloom without a sound 

The hosts of life are pressing round. 

When I go out in crowded places 

I cannot breathe for all the faces, 

All the lips and all the eyes. 

Ail that lives from all that dies, 
18 



14 Soft Places 

All the passion of groping hands 
That search the dusk for holy lands. 
In the gloom without a sound 
The hosts of life are pressing round. 

There is that I dare not know 
Haunts the crowded ways I go ; 
There is that in every street 
Tunnels hell beneath my feet ; 
There are depths I dare not see, 
And onlv noise 'twixt them and me. 
In the gloom without a sound 
The hosts of life are pressing round. 

And though I rend my flimsy bars 
And thrust my head among the stars, 
I dare not look upon my God, 
But rather choose to be a clod. 
I am not fashioned to endure 
The flame that burns the spirit pure. 
In the gloom without a sound 
The hosts of life are pressing round. 



Soft Places 15 

And so I lie on a feather bed, 

With a feather pillow beneath my head. 

And sleep sits heavy on my chest, 

And I am weary of much rest. 

But though I writhe and turn about, 

I cannot lift my spirit out. 

In the gloom without a sound 

The hosts of life are pressing round. 



Unborn 

LITTLE body I would hold, 
Little feet my hands enfold, 
Little head my tears have blessed. 
Little mouth that seeks my breast, 
Little shining soul that cries 
From the worship of his eyes, 
I must wait that I may be 
Great enough to mother thee. 



16 



MY dear comes down to meet me. 
Comes down the little way 
Where clover cops are gay, 
And smiles from far to greet me 
At twilight time of day. 

And sun is on his laughter, 
And light is on his hands, 
Like dust from stranger lands, 

And shining birds trail after, 

Where my beloved stands. 

My dear comes down to find me 
Beyond the bolted door, 
But we shall touch no more, 

And sunset dies behind me, 
And life is stretched before. 

17 2 



My Dear comes down . 

Yet still he comes to meet me. 
Comes down the little way 
Where clover cops are gay, 

And still he smiles to greet me 
At twilight time of day. 



Song from '' April '' 

1KN0W 
Where the wind flowers blow ! 
I know, 

I have been 
Where the wild honey bees 
Gather honey for their queen ! 

I would be 

A wild flower. 
Blue sky over me, 

For an hour ... an hour ! 
So the wild bees 

Should seek and discover me, 
And kiss me . . . kiss me . . . kiss me ! 

Not one of the dusky dears should 
miss me ! 

19 



20 Song from " April " 

I know 

Where the wind flowers blow ! 
I know, 

I have been 
Where the little rabbits run 
In the warm, yellow sun ! 

Oh, to be a wild flower 

For an hour ... an hour . . . 

In the heather ! 
A bright flower, a wild flower. 

Blown by the weather ! 

I know, 

I have been 
Where the wild honey bees 

Gather honey for their queen ! 



London 

THERE is no town but London town. 
I go wandering up and down, 
Round and round and round about, 
Back and forth, and in and out, 
From light to shade, from shade to light, 
In the dawn, and through the night, 
When sleep scom-s all her streets of men, 
And morning pours them back agen, 
I go wandering like a shade, 
The loneliest creature God has made, 
And yet akin with all the earth. 
And all that flesh has brought to birth, 
And all I touch and all I see. 
Oh, I am that, and that is me ! 

21 



2 2 London 

I love the tramp of human feet, 
To feel the world's great pulses beat ; 
I love the triumphant roar of strife, 
The clashing armaments of life ; 
I do not hate the smoke and grime, 
The dusky kiss of labouring Time, 
For smoke and grime make London grey, 
And London white, and London gay. 
Would seem to me a painted whore, 
And not my London any more. 
Oh, when the fog falls like a shroud 
And smothers up the human crowd, 
And I can only sense and smell 
The living things I love so well, 
And Death lurks slyly within reach, 
■ And springs to warn men with a screech 
And a dull gleam of lampish eyes 
That life is short and all flesh dies ; 
Then mystery walks at my right hand, 
nd leads me to a mystic land — 



London 23 

A land of wan and muffled sound, 

A land of undiscovered ground, 

Where I must walk with silent lips 

Beside a river whose dim ships, 

Ghost cargoed and faint jewelled, glide 

With and against an unseen tide ; 

And yellow wasps be-star the air. 

And angels stand with wild bright hair, 

And men walk nearer to God's throne 

Because they find themselves alone. 

And when the rain comes silvering down. 

Oh, then I love this London town ! 

When Day has closed her drowsed lids up. 

And Night shades life like some dark cup 

Whose wine is spilt in golden dreams, 

Then are the streets like shining streams, 

And I in my battleship of fire 

Hiss my mad way, my heart a lyre ; 

With delving feet and soaring wings 

I am quick to the searching touch of things, 



24 London 

The ruddy arms of men, that gleam 
Out of the darkness like a dream 
Of fateful power ; the piteous moon, 
A fearful spirit come too soon, 
Affronted by the storm wind's breath, 
Dying a mournful misty death ; 
The lamps, those spiders of the night. 
Spinning their wavering threads of light 
Seeking all heaven and earth to span, 
From man to God, and God to man ; 
The thunder of a passing train. 
Which belches out its hideous pain 
Against the howling of the wind. 
Streaming its Titan hair behind ; 
And then the quiet suburban streets. 
Where still the mighty muflfled beats 
Of London's heart keep time with mine. 
And London's distant lamps still shine 
Reflected, hovering in the skies, 
A burning moth with golden eyes. 



London 25 

Men say I love not London town. 
Because I sing of hill and down, 
Because I feel the insistent goad 
Which drives me out upon the road 
To seek the wide eternal green 
That washes mind and spirit clean, 
And leave the trodden streets behind, 
And leap to meet the unfettered wind, 
And dance because^of budding trees, 
And wing my longing to grey seas ! 
But oh, the dust beneath my feet 
Is doubly dear and doubly sweet 
That I shall tread it back agen 
To London streets and London men ! 



Child's Prayer 

{Spoken and Unspoken.) 

NOW I lay me down to sleep, 
Mary^ is it pain to die ? 
May the saints their vigil keep, 

In the 7iarrow grave to lie ! 
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, 

Worms to tangle in my hair ! 
Bless this bed I lie upon. 

And devour my Jlesh so fair ! 
Bless my father and my mother, 

O, to lie there all alone ! 
Bless my sister and my brother, 

Cold and white as any stone 

26 



Child's Prayer 27 

Bless my friends, and make me good, 

Mary mother, let me be 
Bless my work and daily food, 

Living when I come to thee ! 
And when I shall come to die 

Mary, I beseech thee, save 
Holy Father may I lie 

Little children from the grave ! 
Safe from sin against Thy Breast, 

Mary ! Mary ! Mary ! Hark ! 
There eternally to rest. 

/ am fearful of the dark ! 

Amen. 



The Beloved 



MY lover lay beside me, calm and white, 
But Sorrow pressed him at his other side. 
And loved him through the night, 
And would not be denied. 

I lay still, apart. 

I did not weep because he was not mine, 
Nor drag him jealously against my heart, 
But thought how Sorrow made a man divine. 



28 



The Beloved 29 

II. 

Shall I hate life for your pain ? 

I do not know. 

Sorrow has come with her sword again 

To deal her casual-seeming blow, 

And another dream lies slain. 

But for every dream that dies 
A truth comes true, 
And when I look in your tired eyes, 
I know that Sorrow has chosen you 
For the terrible crown of the wise. 



III. 

Before your pain I am dumb, 

My beloved, I dare not pity you, 

I cannot speak mild words, as others do. 

Quite comfortless I come. 



30 The Beloved 

Your grief is dignified 

Beyond the comfort that trips on the tongue. 
Proudly, as women carry their young, 
You carry grief in your side. 

But lay your hands in my breast, 
Lift up your mouth to my mouth, and speak 
What others may not hear, be >veak, 
Lean on my heart, and rest. 



Three Women 

THREE women sit under a railway arch, 
Huddled, shapeless, hideous, grim. 
Crouching away in the merciful dim, 
Blind and deaf to the year's slow march. 

Flesh slow dying, and souls long dead, 
Bleared eyes glazing and mouthing jaws, 
Shaking, palsied, beseeching paws. 
Rain your curses upon my head. 

Hearts where raged once consuming flame 
Which licked the souls of you deep in hell, 
Hate if you can, and hate me well, 
Hate me out of your loveless shame. 
31 



32 Three Women 

Hate my flesh that is quick and warm, 
Hate my eyes that are clear and young, 
Hate my chattering happy tongue, 
Hate my limbs and their rounded form. 

Hate my soul for aspiring high, 

O you who have never adored a star. 

Who have never wept for the things that are, 

Nor shouted joy at a laughing sky. 

Could pity quicken your wheezing breath. 
Could a kiss bring life I would stoop and give 
Even that, for love, if you crave to live. 
But I think you wait for the kiss of death. 



Vision 

WJE came far out of the east with a broken song^ 
^ -^ And a broken lute in his hands, and in his breast 
A broken heart he bore ; he had journeyed long\ 
But he would not stay^ and his eyes looked into the west. 

O say from whence you travel and whither you go, 

man with the sleepless eyes, a)id what your fame? 
Whence I forget and whither I do not know, 
But I go in search of a dream without a name. 

1 have builded many a bridge and shattered doors, 
I have hewn out many a path with bleeding hands ; 
I have sailed in many a ship to foreign shores, 
And travelled a lonely road in alien lands. 

33 3 



34 Vision 

Seeking, seeking, seeking, I know not what ; 
Leaving the milk and the honey of life behind. 
On and on, though my weary feet should rot. 
Desiring only the thing that I must find. 

A pitiless thirst is a scourge to drive me on, 

A thirst which the waters of life may not assuage ; 

Only there at the end when I have Avon, 

Shall the thirst be quenched and the fire cease to rage. 

In the glowing sky that gilds the edge of the world 
I have seen a vision hang with the evening star ; 
I have heard a voice, I have seen a flag unfurled, 
And I must go though the edge of the world be far. 

I dream that when I shall come to the place of light 
I shall find a Man hung high on a blazing tree ; 
And out of His side shall spring a lily white, 
And the crown on His head a crowri of stars 
shall be. 



Vision 35 

The stars of dawn and evening shall be His eyes, 
From east to west shall spread His flaming wing ; 
Beneath His feet the sun and the moon shall rise, 
And lifting up His head, His lips shall sing. 

And the song of the radiant lips shall end my quest 
The lily's song, and the morning and evening star 
The vision calls, and I may not stay to rest. 
I must learn the song though the edge of the 
world be far. 



WHEN my beloved sleeping lies 
I cannot look at him for tears, 
Such mournful peace is on his eyes. 

A look of lonely death he wears, 
And graven very calm and deep 
Lie all the sorrows of old years. 

He is so passionless in sleep. 

With all his strength relaxed to rest ; 

I cannot see him and not weep. 

For weakness life has not confessed 
And shadowed scars of old mistakes, 
I take his head upon my breast, 
And hold my dearest till he wakes. 



36 



Philosophy 



PLEASURE has ceased to please ; 
I seek Philosophy. 
Joyless and weak I creep 

Between her giant knees ; 
She bends her gaze on me, 
Calm and deep. 

I am infinitely small 

Between her cool white hands 
Under her passionless eyes ; 

Forgotten now is the call 
Of the undiscovered lands. 

I may not rise. 

37 



38 Philosophy 

Once with the stream I surged, 
Tossed madly here and there, 

Battered on rocks of pain, 
Lifted high, and submerged, 

Frenzied, and bleeding, and bare : 
Now I am sane. 

Present, and future, and past 
Lie at her mighty feet ; 

I see them linked in one. 
The vision is clear at last 

Seen from her lofty seat. 
Where I sit in the sun. 

I know I must leave her throne, 
And go out again into strife, 

But her peace is upon my soul ; 
I will go forth alone 

And pour myself into life, 
Into the Whole. 



Philosophy 39 

And then if the gods shall please 

When I have given my best, 
When I am burnt out and spent, 
I shall come to her great white knees, 
I shall sleep in her quiet breast, 
Fulfilled, content. 



SWALLOW, swallow, over the green trees, 
My heart is a bird of infinite wisdom ; 
Wiser than you, my swallow of the azure. 
O winterless swallow, what know you of spring ? 

Swallow, swallow, I have been there too, 

Near the horizon of promise eternal ; 

But I have known death, my swallow of green 

summer. 
O sorrowless sad one, what know you of joy ? 

Swallow, swallow, I am not envious. 
My wings are not laughter; I know the beginning. 
The last is the first, O swallow of the morning. 
O shadowless swift one, what know you of light ? 
40 



Swallow, Swallow ... 41 

Swallow, swallow, there is no beginning 

That was not the end, and death is the dung-heap 

Whence spring the lilies of life everlasting. 

fetterless swallow, what know you of freedom ? 

I 



n 



o 



H, that I had full power to be 
All that your need requires of me ! 



I pray for a body fine and fair, 

That you may find your pleasure there 

I pray for a heart unsmirched of sin 
That you may rest your griefs therein. 

I pray for a mind alive and clear, 
That you may cherish a comrade here. 

I pray for a spirit pure as flame, 
That you may love me free of shame. 

Oh, I must live that I may be 
All that your need requires of me ! 



42 



Unfulfilled 

I AM an old woman, and my lips are cold ; 
I am an old woman, and my breast is lean ; 
I am an old woman, and the bright has gone out 
of my eyes. 
I live with the things that have been, 
My flesh withers and dies, 
I am very old. 

I am an old woman with a foolish tongue. 
I am an old woman, and my wits are gone. 
I am an old woman, and my wits are strayed and 
wild. 
I am become a thing for fun. 
I am a withered child, 
I am too old and too young. 
43 



44 Unfulfilled 

Oh, to have the spirit when the body is full of 

years ! 
Oh, to hear the echo, and never the song ! 
Oh, to be old, and not to have age in my ears ! 
I have plucked at flowers all my days, and 
they have died. 
The roots were too deep, 
The roots were too strong, 
The roots were spread too wide 



Faith 

OH, I have listened to many a honied word, 
And smiled because the easy praise seemed 
sweet, 
And trusted smooth tongues, drinking all I heard, 
And sung my songs thereby with heart a-stirred, 
And seen my dreams lie crumbled at my feet. 

But one there was spoke no soft word to me, 
In spite of all I had to give of love, 
But smiled, and looked a little wistfully, 
And shook her gentle head regretfully, 
And all my songs her stillness could not move. 



45 



46 Faith 

Oh, just because her sweet lips never lied 
I loved the pain, and loved herself the more, 
And held my peace, still waiting at her side, 
Feeling my love more noble and more wide 
Than any I had known in me before. 



All thought in me was deeper and more strong, 
And purpose quickened dreams to power and 

fire, 
A sweeter melody was in my song, 
And I was glad who had been sorry long, 
And fashioned will from what had been desire. 

She never lied to me, my gentle dear ! 

She never praised me where no praise was due, 

But looked at me with eyes most calm and 

clear ; 
Dispassionate she was, and knew no fear. 
She never lied to me ! Her lips are true ! 



Faith 47 

Oh, she was true when truth itself seemed dead, 
And now the pain of truth is all retrieved, 
For lo, last night she touched my hand, and said, 
" I love you," gently, leaning close her head ; 
And I believed ! oh, I believed ! oh, I believed ! 



Song 

How do I love you ? 
I do not know. 
Only because of you 
Gladly I go. 

Only because of you 

Labour is sweet, 
And all the song of you 

Sings in my feet. 

Only the thought of you 

Trembles and lies 
Just where the world begins- 

Under ray eyes. 

48 



Ships 

THE rivers splendidly flow 
Out to sea, 
And noble ships come and go 

Statelily 
Whither and whence I do not know. 



I think the ships are like men 

Setting sail for the wide 
With their cargoes of thoughts, and then. 

With a change of tide 
And a newer load, coming back again. 



I WILL give you rest, 
I will ! 
I could be calm and still, 
If you leaned against my breast. 

I had a heart of flame, 

I had! 

But I could be sober and sad, 

I could put out my heart if you came. 



60 



1HAVE not forgotten, 
My lover, my lover. 
\ATien love was conceived, when love was begotten 
Of waves and winds and wild skies over ! 
When hand in hand, 
Naked as laughter, 
Gulls screaming after, 
We raced on the sand, 
Fearless and free. 
Together, together ! 

White in the wind as the sea bird's feather, 
Our bodies glistened. 
Salt with the sea. 

And nobody listened, nobody listened ! 
The songs of our laughter, the shouts of our glee. 
51 



52 I have not forgotten 

Ah ! Beauty ! Beauty ! Beauty of bodies ! 

Never before 

Had I seen the temple whole where God is ! 

I have not forgotten awe and pride 

As we stilled to adore, 

Cheek to cheek and side to side. 



Then — do you forget ? — 

Through gates of flesh let slip, 

Our spirits met, 

Trembled once where lip found lip. 

And up ! Up ! Up ! 

Loosened arrows of light ! 

We drained the cup 

Of the infinite ! 

We were the first and the last I 

Time, and Eternity, 

Present, and future, and past 

Thundered in you and me. 



I have not forgotten 53 

Singing ! Singing ! Singing ! 
While, far beneath, 
Your breath mixed with my breath, 
Our human lips still clinging. . . 

Ah . . . They will take us, 

Bleed us, break us, 

Shackle and smother. 

And leave us staik ! 

They call it living. 

Clutching and striving, 

Tearing each other. 

Crushed in the dark . . . 

Btit hush . . . can you hear me . . . 

My lover . . . my lover . . . 

Keep always near me. . . 

It is not forgotten. 

Love conceived^ and love begotten 

Of waves, atid winds, ami tvild skies over. . . 



o 



Song 

WATER may kiss thy small young feet, 
Thy feet are very fair and sweet. 



O wind may kiss thy lovely cheek, 
Thy cheek is very warm and meek. 

O sun may kiss thy sinless eyes. 
Thine eyes are very clear and wise. 

But I am a man who comes to thee, 
So keep thy modest mouth for me ! 



64 



My Glorious One ! 

VERY beautiful you are to me 
My beloved ! 
All ray pride is in you, 
As a mother's my pride is, 
I am wrapped in majesty 
Because of you. 

I am familiar with all your aspects, 
My lover, 

How your head hangs aside 
When you are tired. 
And your skin is transparent for glory 
That burns through, 
I have seen you in the morning, 
Passionate heart, 

66 



56 My Glorious One ! 

Pale dawn on your lips, 

Like the wan triumph of death, 

And I have jealously melted its radiance 

With my warm breath. 

Sometimes you tug at my heart 

As a child does. 

When I see you leap for the stars, 

When I see you reach out your hand, laughing, 

To pluck the indifferent stars ! 

Ah, my beautiful. 

Then my hands yearn over you, 

And I long for the breasts of quiet hills 

That I might take you in, 

And your bitter soitow. 

Very beautiful you are to me 

In all your ways ! 

But most of all when I dare not see you 

Because of your great strength ! 



My Glorious One ! 57 

Most of all when my soul rocks and trembles 

Because of your great strength ! 

Most of all when I am melted up, 

And merged in the sun of your being, 

And utterly consumed 

By the terrible joy of your strength ! 

Come! 

Draw me up for your thirst, 

As Apollo gathers the mists ! 

Come! 

Come down upon me 

Like a mighty torrent ! 

I would not be stronger than you are ! 

Come ! 

Sweep me like a straw upon your waters 

Into most splendid dangers I 

Do not let me stand against your tides, 

My glorious one ! 



The Aim 

I SHALL walk freely yet 
Who am beset 
With burrs, and brambles clinging, 
And flowers on either hand 
Where I stand 
Which I pluck, singing. 
And my steep road forget. 

I shall not roam, nor stay, 

Nor weep, nor play 
Though beckon tears and laughter. 

Dreams and desires may ride 

Far and wide, 
And bid me follow after, 

But I shall go my way. 
58 



The Aim 59 

The little loves that bind 

I shall leave behind, 
Careless of hate or pleading, 

No hand shall stay my feet, 

However sweet. 
I must go on still speeding 

My highest height to find. 



Rest 

As a little child I come 
To be gathered to your breast 
So tired that my lips are dumb, 
So sad that my warm heart is numb : 
Beloved, let me rest. 

Oh, how all the noises die, 
All the cruel voices cease, 
I can sleep when you are by. 
And I am too faint to cry : 
Here at last is peace. 

Hold me, nurse me, love me ... so . 
Almost I could learn to weep ! 
Hush, I feel my spirit grow . . . 
When you tire ... let me go .. . 
I shall be . . . asleep. 

60 



I SEE you always through a haze 
Like summer heat above the grass, 
You go with me in all my ways 
And lean towards me as we pass 
Along our sad and separate ways. 

I remember . . . once we stood 
Transfixed in love in Randall'^s store, 
And he was saying . . . this is good . . 
While through the creaking parlour door 
There came the smells of frying food ! 

And oranges . . . and stripy sweets . . , 
And bathing caps . . . and buzzing flies 
And counting my slow pulse's beats . . 
And through the dancing haze your eyes ! 
While Randall pressed his potted meats. 



ei 



Looking Back 



WHEN I was young a dream I dreamed 
I saw my splendid God denied, 
I saw my yomig Christ crucified, 
And I was on the Cross it seemed. 

I stood within the Cross's shade, 
I shrank beside Him in the dim. 
And He was me, and I was Him, 

And I was very sore afraid. 

I looked into His eyes and wept, 
I held His hands and wept again. 
For He was mine. His pride. His pain ; 

They crucified Him while I slept. 
62 



Looking Back 63 

When I awoke and saw Him there, 
My dear young Christ all crucified, 
I cursed, and bitterly I cried, 

Because He was so young and fair. 

I lifted up my hands and railed, 

I clasped His feet, but they were cold, 
And I was suddenly grown old, 

An old, old child that cursed and wailed. 

My shivering flesh was cold as sod, 

I waited very anxiously 

Lest they should take that earthly me 
And hang it up beside my God. 

But He His clear gaze opened wide, 
And hung aside His anguished head ; 
" I am enough, my child," He said, 

" And they perhaps are satisfied." 



64 Looking Back 

And then I knew that this was Me 

With bleeding hands, and feet, and brow, 
That all my Christ was murdered now, 

And I, asleep, had let it be. 

I cried aloud for nails and Cross, 

I craved the scourge, I craved the spear, 
My soul-less body knew no fear 

In that undying sense of loss. 

But now — myself is satisfied, 
I feed my flesh where it is weak. 
And I am old, and warm, and sleek, 

For only Christ was crucified. 



I Walk My Ways 

I WALK my ways with poetry in my heart, 
Nor heed the fevered hurry of the throng. 
In life's activities I find no part, 
But tread the highways with a silent song. 
I have no traffic in the worldly mart, 
I know no certainties of right and wrong, 
But shape my fleeting dreams to forms of art, 
Knowing that life is short and art is long. 
And who shall say I do not play my role 
Because I do not clamour in the street. 
Nor raise my hand to swell the frenzied strife. 
But rather chose with song to worship life, 
And feed the flickering flame within my soul, 
And silent stand because the stars are sweet ? 
tJ6 6 



Upon a Truss of Hay 

MY love and I were seated 
Upon a truss of hay. 
From all the world retreated, 
And from the blaze of day. 

We heard the horses champing 
Near by us where we lay 

To rest us from our tramping 
The white and dusty way. 

Said I then to my lover, 

" Dear heart, what shall men say 
If they perchance discover 

Where we are hid away ?" 
66 



Upon a Truss of Hay 67 

Said he, " O love, I'm reckless, 

Let happen now what may, 
We will be fond and feckless 

While we've a time for play." 

" Look long upon me, dearest. 
With gallant eyes and'grey," 

" O now your soul shines clearest, 
And all the rest is clay." 

" Give me your hands for holding, 

And quiet let them stay." 
" Your hands my hands enfolding 

Inclines my heart to pray." 

And so we sat, not moving. 

Upon a truss of hay. 
With nought to do but loving 

Throughout a summer day. 



A Day 

SHALL you ever forget that horizon's lumi- 
nous line 
Where the mist-hazed curve of the hill met the 

sunless sky, 
And the furrowed field where two white birds 

wheeled high, 
And the smell of the rain- washed earth, and the 
smell of pine ? 

Or the soft damp wind blowing love all over the 
earth, 

And the space in the gorse where we sat our- 
selves down and talked, 

And the little copse where you sang aloud as you 
walked, 

And I rolled in the dear dead leaves in a rapture 

of mirth ? 

68 



A Day 69 

Or the straight Scotch firs, and the light between 

trunk and trunk, 
And the moment you gripped my hand, and no 

leaf stirred, 
And I loved you because you could speak no 

worshipping word, 
But stood, wide-eyed and silent, beauty drunk. 

And the farmhouse painted black, and the almond 

tree. 
In delicate pale relief on the gloomy wall. 
The evening mist, and the peewits keening call, 
. . . And the dusk that ended the day for you 

and me. 

For Cathleen Nesbitt. 



Mother to Son 

BEFORE I knew the love of man 
The lovely dream of you began. 
When I said " Jesus meek and mild "" 
My Jesus was a little child. 
I nursed the kitten on my knee, 
And nursed you where no eye could see. 
^Vhen I grew up to woman's grace 
I saw you in your father's face, 
Your hands were beating at my breast. 
And gave my womanhood no rest, 
Your little soul called each to each, 
And laid bright heaven in our reach. 
My body fed your body, son. 
But birth's a swift thing, swiftly done, 
70 



Mother to Son 71 

Compared to one-and-twenty years 
Of feeding you with spirifs tears. 
I could not make your mind and soul. 
But my glad hands have kept you whole, 
And tears have kept God's pastures green, 
And washed the temple sweet and clean. 
Think you that I have lived in vain 
These years of wonder, joy, and pain ? 
The years when Jesus meek and mild 
Was my beloved little child ! 
And when the first shy touch of things 
Waked in my heart a thousand springs. 
And bade me open childhood's gate 
And give my woman's hand to fate ! 
The moment when your groping hands 
Bound me to life with ruthless bands, 
When all my living became a prayer. 
And all my days built up a stair 
For your young feet that trod behind, 
That you an aspiring way should find ! 



72 Mother to Son 

Think you that life can give you pain, 
Which does not stab in me again ? 
Think you that Hfe can give you pleasure 
Which is not my undying treasure ? 
Think you that life can give you shame 
Which does not make my pride go lame ? 
And you can do no evil thing 
Which sears not me with poisoned sting. 
Because of all that I have done. 
Remember me in life, O son ! 
Keep that proud body fine and fair, 
My love is monumented there. 
For my love make no woman weep. 
For my love hold no woman cheap. 
And see you give no woman scorn 
For that dark night when you were born. 
Beloved, all my years belong 
To you, go thread them for a song. 



I 



Discovery 

N the grey gloom 

I see your startled eyes 

Staring in half anticipate surprise 
Across the room. 



Long ago 
You spoke ... I think you said 

It would be fine . . . the sun had set in red . 
Dull and slow. 

A pulse beats 
And, surging to its thud, 

Painfully ebbs and flows my singing blood, 
In colds, and heats. 
73 



74 Discovery 

Suddenly 
The little carpeted space 

Between us widens . . . and I see your face 
Across infinity. 



Immaturity 



I SAW the delicate profile of her face, 
And the soft silhouette of her young grace, 
The quaint delicious roundness of her head. 
Her silver paleness, save where the lips flashed red, 
Parted to let her untragic treble through 
Sweet with the lack of pain she never knew. 

And seeing her, so virginally fair, 

I felt the passion of a most vain prayer. 

That the faint petals of this bright white rose 

Remain forever so, and not unclose, 

Lest when the lovely leaves are all unfurled 

I find a maggot in its deep heart curled. 



76 



1HAVE done you greater wrong 
Than you had done 
Had you lifted your hand to hush my song, 
And put out my morning sun. 

You, who have reached so high. 

To be forced so low ! 

Down to the dust of a little lie 

Lest ray heart were too small to know 

All of your innocent need. 
To stand above 

Jealousy, fear, possession's greed, 
Not grown enough in love ! 

There is no sin more than this 

From soul to soul ! 

But perhaps, being you, you will stoop, and kiss, 

Forgive, and make me whole. 



76 



Wild Weather 

OUTSIDE is the storm, 
But I lie snug and warm, 
Listening to the rain 
And the wind's hideous pain ; 
Thinking of the hosts 
Of drenched misty ghosts, 
Blown hither and thither 
In the wild sorrowful weather. 
I think of the load 
Of lonely ones trudging the road, 
And I whisper a word 
To Christ Jesus our Lord 
To show them a place, 
By His dear pitiful grace, 
Where they may pitch — 
A hedge, or a dry ditch. 
77 



On a Hill 

SPRING on a wind-swept hill ! 
The grass at our feet 
Sheered into waves of light ! 
Spring, and the woodbird's trill ! 
Spring, and the stars of night 
Turned dewdrops glist'ning sweet 
Earth chained we stand, 
Thinking unearthly things, 
Looking across the land. 
Over the hills, beyond the sea, 
Our souls on tireless wings 
Soaring Eternity. 

Spring ! O the wind's rush 
In the joyous trees ! 
78 



On a Hill 79 

O wide, free sky, and white 
Laughing clouds ! And the hush 
When, as a musician's might, 
God"'s Hand rests on His keys. 



For 8. Le Memrier. 



So beautiful you are indeed 
That I am troubled when you come, 
And though I crave you for my need, 
Your nearness strikes me blind and dumb. 

And when you bring your lips to mine 
My spirit trembles and escapes. 
And you and I are turned di^^ne, 
Bereft of our familiar shapes. 

And fearfully we tread cold space, 
Naked of flesh and winged with flame, 
. . . Until we find us face to face. 
Each calling on the other's name ! 



80 



Magic 



WIND on before me, dim white road, 
My feet are glad, they may not tire, 
They lift me to a lilting dance. 
And love is stili my only load, 
And all my heart's a shivering lyre, 
That doth my way with song entrance. 
I love the little poplar trees 
That stand so still and very clear 
Against the level evening sky ! 
I love the faintly fragrant breeze 
That lifts my hair, and very dear 
The sleepy sparrow's chirping cry ! 
I love the softly sweeping mist 
That whispers up the grassy slope 

81 6 



82 Magic 

And folds me in a cool embrace ! 
And O my soul is beauty kissed ! 
And O my lips are gay with hope ! 
And O I lift my happy face 
Towards the star that silent gleams. 
Low hung in luminous deep blue ! 
And darkness dear is creeping up, 
And all the west is full of dreams. 
And every deepest dream is true, 
And brimming over is my cup ! 



For Cathleen Ne'Shitt. 



Is love, then, so simple my dear ? 
The opening of a door, 
And seeing all things clear ? 
I did not know before. 

I had thought it unrest and desire 

Soaring only to fall, 
Annihilation and fire : 

It is not so at all. 

I feel no desperate will. 
But I think I understand 

Many things, as I sit quite still, 
With Eternity in my hand. 



83 



To Francis Thompson 

INGER, thou hast been since long dead, 
And all the praise men left unsaid 
Now stars thy ghostly head. 

Fame stoops to kiss thy heedless feet, 
Thy singing seems more subtly sweet 
Heard from thy heavenly seat I 

And I the lifeless pages turn 
Wherein thy living visions burn, 
And passionately learn. 

Lo, the same quenchless thirst was thine 
Which is so mercilessly mine, 
Which no words may define. 



To Francis Thompson 85 

And which no waters may assuage 
From eager youth to passionless age : 
O bird, free of thy cage. 

What is the end of this wild quest 
That gives the rebel soul no rest 
And knows not its own best ? 

Hast thou attained thy holy star 
Which shone so unattained far 
Across the things that are ? 

And dost thou sound a lovelier lyre 
Beneath thy unfettered wings of fire, 
Freed of all vain desire ? 

O deathless singer, look back to me 
And know that I in life like thee 
Swim in a bitter sea. 

Only like thee I cannot sing 

Who mad'st of pain a mystic thing, 

A blazing plume in thy wing. 



86 To Francis Thompson 

Seeing my golden vision unfurled, 

I remember not the ways of the world, 

And the worm in my flesh curled. 

I^istening a song across the din 
I forget the abyss of fear and sin 
Until I stumble in. 

But through thee I may not forget 
This flesh is but a dusty net 
I shall rend yet ! 



Faith 

UNDER the apple-tree, 
— Dawn in his eyes, — 
White blossom is falling, 

Starring his ways. 
He looks through the branches, 
Spring on his lips. 
Laughing. 

Under the apple-tree, 

— Summer is old, — 
He gathers fulfilment, 

He holds in his hand 
Fruit of fair blossom, 

Worms at its heart 
Creeping. 



88 Faith 



Under the apple-tree, 
— Death in his hand — 

He is not weeping, 
He stands and waits. 

White blossom ! White blossom 
Spring in his heart, 
Eternal. 



Lone Dog 

I'M a lean dog, a keen dog, a wild dog, and 
lone; 
I'm a rough dog, a tough dog, hunting on my 

own ; 
I'm a bad dog, a mad dog, teasing silly sheep ; 
I love to sit and bay the moon, to keep fat souls 
from sleep. 



I'll never be a lap dog, licking dirty feet, 
A sleek dog, a meek dog, cringing for my meat. 
Not for me the fireside, the well-filled plate, 
But shut door, and sharp stone, and cufF, and 
kick, and hate. 

89 



90 Lone Dog 

Not for me the other dogs, running by my side. 
Some have run a short while, but none of them 

would bide. 
O mine is still the lone trail, the hard trail, the 

best, 
Wide wind, and wild stars, and the hunger of the 

quest ! 



I THINK when we have lived our fill 
We were not always doing things, 
Our moving moments were most still, 
And soared on quiet wings. 

Often I'm back on Arishmel, 

Where only birds and lovers pass, 

And sit for hours in lonely spell 
With wind upon the grass. 

Those glinting gulls above the plough 
Still drift unbroken lulls of air. 

There is no time, I know it now, 
Nor any here, and there. 



91 



Sonnet 

I LOVE this quiet night, no stars, no moon. 
Nature is robed in velvet, common things 
Are turned mysterious, divine, there sings 
In some far tree the nightingale (soon 
I must fall to sleep) some murmuring pigeons 

croon 
Low above me. Ah, what peace night brings 
To tired hearts, so softly her cool wings 
She folds about them ! The summer's blazing noon 
Is now forgotten. So ... a long, long day 
Slips past, less real than a dream ; I lie 
Alone, and silent, and yet not alone, 
For you are here — I feel you ! We have flown 
Together to the heart of night . . . away . . . 
Two stars have risen in the quiet sky. 



92 



WHEN you have ceased to love me do not 
weep ; 
Oh, do not pity me, whose passionate pride 
Has never known the comfort of soft tears ; 
When you are gone, know that I shall not creep 
Into the grey, sad silences to hide, 
But set my face towards the unknown years. 

When you have ceased to love, do not regret 
For my sake what is ray eternal gain ; 
Mine is the treasure, yours the withered loss ; 
My day is deathless, though your sun must set ; 
Mine is the exaltation of proud pain — 
I never wore my sorrows as a cross. 
93 



94 When you have ceased . . . 

When you have ceased to love me, go your ways, 
Seeking for love from other lips than mine ; 
Those fresh lips shall seem stale with memories, 
Mine the infinities of these unshadowed days. 
I am the temple — I am Love's holy shrine ! 
Men shall find always laughter in my eyes. 



The Sword 

fHRIST is born in Bethlehem ! 
A crown of thorns His diadem ! 

Out of the frail is born the. strong, 
Out of the pain is born the song, 
Out of the dream is born the fight, 
Out of our love is born our might. 
Into our hearts such love is poured 
That each of us is turned a sword, 
A sword whose pity knows no ruthj 
A sword whose passionate cause is Truth, 
A sword which cleaves the blackest night, 
And leaves behind its trail of light, 
95 



g6 The Sword 

And smites its enemies to earth 

That Christ once more may come to birth. 

Christ is born in Bethlehem ! 
A crown of thorns His diadem ! 

O all ye men who Him adore. 

In His hand a sword He bore ! 

Little laws of men He broke, 

Flaming words of scorn He spoke. 

He shattered creeds, and priest;?, and powers 

And in their ashes sowed His flowers, 

And, hand in hand with two or three, 

He preached God's gospel of the free ! 

Ring out the old, ring in the yomig, 
Hail to the flower so swiftly sprung ! 
Hail to the wind that blasts the world ! 
Hail to our flag, by the wind unfurled 1 
Ring in the eternal truth reborn ! 
Sing the song of the crown of thorn, 



The Sword 97 

Out into battle unafraid ! 

Sing the song of the burning blade ! 

Christ is born in Bethlehem ! 
A crown of thorns His diadem ! 



Mary's Baby 



LIGHT came forth from Mary's womb, 
Christ was born in Mary's pain ; 
Mary anguished, Christ was slain, 
Truth ascended from a tomb. 

They murdered Jesus on the Cross, 

Mary's flesh that Mary bore ; 

Hers the bleeding side they tore, 
Hers the death, and hers the loss. 

God is not by flesh confined 

God was never crucified 

Only Mary's Baby died 
For the hope of humankind. 



98 



I'LL sit no more and weep apart 
To see them crack my true friend's heart 
I know them, creeping in the dim 
To get a coward's lunge at him, 
Creeping, crawling, devil's lice, 
Fed on blood of sacrifice. 
Glutting on his spirit's store, 
Thief and hypocrite, and whore ! 
And then, when you have sucked him dry. 
Leave him there to rot and die ! 
That's the game for swine like you ! 
You he swore were fine and true, 
You he held were saints and sages : 
Fit to mark his heart's white pages. 
You he eat with, talked with, played with. 
Laughed, and cried, and worked, and prayed with. 
You ! You've gulled my darling fool. 
You scum ! And had him for your tool. 
99 



loo ril sit no more . . . 

YouVe fleeced his heart of faith and youth, 
And sickened all his thirst for Truth, 
And twisted all his vision wry, 
Till Beauty's just a painted lie, 
You've laid indifference on his aim. 
And linked his honour to your shame, 
There isn't much you've left undone — 
But O, you can't put out the sun ! 
Nor grind his godhead under foot ! 
Nor make his soul your dirty loot ! 
Love shall burn the poison out, 
And put the devil's lice to rout, 
And set his foot upon the height, 
And fill him up with power and light, 
And love shall wipe away the scars. 
And lay his hands on dancing stars — 
For love is fire, and love is wings. 
And love is stronger than all things ! 



Rebel 

SINCE I was a little child 
My spirit has been swift and wild. 
With pinions flapping hard on fate, 
And burnt and blown with love and hate ! 
Fve hated all that's mean and cold, 
All that's dusty, tame, and old. 
Comfortable lies in books, 
Pallid Virtue's sidelong looks. 
Fear that gags the jaws of Truth, 
Doubt that weights the heels of Youth, 
Saints who wash their hands too clean. 
And walk where only Saints have been, 
And mobs that blabber— Crucify 1 
On him who fixes heaven too high : 
101 



102 Rebel 

All of these I seek to blast, 

Love's hate shall drive me to the last. 

Beyond the murk that swallows me 

There is an Eye that follows me, 

There is an Ear that waits and strains 

To catch the echoes of my pains, 

There is a Hand outstretched to take 

Utmost toll for each mistake : 

These Three have stalked me down the years 

To mock the passion of my tears. 

I fling you scorn, unholy spy ! 

Though living give my faith the lie. 

Though loving clip the wings of Love, 

Though men humanity disprove, 

Though all my suns and moons go out. 

Though tongues of all the ages shout 

That only death may not deceive — 

111 not believe ! I'll not believe ! 

With ardour passionate in my breath 

I'll sing my undefeated faith ! 



Rebel 103 

O take me, break me, peaceless life ! 
My soul was born to welcome strife ! 
O sap my heart of its deep blood, 
If blood be Beauty's precious food ! 
There is no thing I would not give. 
There is no hour I dare not live, 
There is no hell I'd not explore 
To find a hidden heavenly door ! 

loveless spy, you wait in vain. 
There is no pity in my pain. 

If by my living I may prove 
Faith and beauty, truth and love ! 
Twisted, shattered, drained, and wrung, 

1 shall have sung ! I shall have sung ! 



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